W.  B.  YEATS 

THE  LAND  OF 
HEART'S  DESIRE 

Mdccccix 


University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


BEQUEST 
OF 

Professor  Howard  Moise 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2008  with  funding  from 

Microsoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/desilandofheartsOOyeatrich 


THE  LAND  OF 
HEART'S   DESIRE 


» 


fr&lu. 


a.  tr-.  /fa 


O  Rose,  thou  art  sick. 

WILLIAM   BLAKE. 


THE  LAND  OF  HEART'S 
DESIRE  BY  WILLIAM 
BUTLER  YEATS 


PORTLAND  MAINE 

THOMAS    B    MOSHER 

MDCCCCIX 


FIRST    EDITION, 

OCTOBER, 

T9°3 

SECOND    EDITION, 

DECEMBER, 

1903 

THIRD    EDITION, 

FEBRUARY, 

I904 

FOURTH    EDITION, 

MARCH, 

I905 

FIFTH    EDITION, 

FEBRUARY, 

I906 

SIXTH    EDITION, 

DECEMBER, 

I906 

SEVENTH    EDITION, 

JANUARY, 

I908 

EIGHTH    EDITION, 

JUNE, 

I909 

TO  FLORENCE  FARR 


THE  LAND  OF 
HEART'S  DESIRE 


This  little  play  was  produced  at  the 
Avenue  Theatre  in  the  spring  of  1894, 
with  the  following  cast :  Maurteen  Bruin, 
Mr.  James  Welch;  Shawn  Bruin,  Mr.  A. 
E.  W.  Mason;  Father  Hart,  Mr.  G.  R. 
Foss;  Bridget  Bruin,  Miss  Charlotte 
Morland;  Maire  Bruin,  Miss  Winifred 
Fraser;  a  faery  child,  Miss  Dorothy 
Paget.     It  ran  for  a  little  over  six  weeks. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS 

Maurteen  Bruin, 
Shawn  Bruin, 
Father  Hart, 
Bridget  Bruin, 
Maire  Bruin, 
A  Faery  Child. 


THE    LAND    OF    HEART'S    DESIRE 

The  scene  is  laid  in  the  Barony  of  Kilmacowen, 
in  the  County  of  Sligo,  and  the  characters 
are  supposed  to  speak  in  Gaelic.  They 
wear  the  costume  of  a  century  ago. 

SCENE  :  The  kitchen  ofM  AURTEEN  BRUIN'S 
house.  An  open  grate  with  a  turf  fire  is  at 
the  left  side  of  the  room,  with  a  table  in 
front  of  it.  There  is  a  door  leading  to  the 
open  air  at  the  back,  and  another  door  a 
little  to  its  left,  leading  into  an  inner  room. 
There  is  a  window,  a  settle,  and  a  large 
dresser  on  the  right  side  of  the  room,  and  a 
great  bowl  of  primroses  on  the  sill  of  the 

window.  Maurteen  Bruin,  Father 
Hart,  and  Bridget  Bruin  are  sitting 

at  the  table.  SHAWN  BRUIN  is  setting 
the  table  for  supper.  MAIRE  BRUIN  sits 
on  the  settle  reading  a  yellow  manuscript. 


BRIDGET  BRUIN. 
ECAUSE  I  bade  her  go  and  feed 

the  calves, 
She  took  that  old  book  down  out 

of  the  thatch 
And  has  been  doubled  over  it  all 
day. 
We  would  be  deafened  by  her  groans  and  moans 
Had  she  to  work  as  some  do,  Father  Hart, 
Get  up  at  dawn  like  me,  and  mend  and  scour; 
Or  ride  abroad  in  the  boisterous  night  like  you, 
The  pyx  and  blessed  bread  under  your  arm. 

SHAWN  BRUIN. 
You  are  too  cross. 

BRIDGET  BRUIN. 

The  young  side  with  the  young. 

MAURTEEN  BRUIN. 

She  quarrels  with  my  wife  a  bit  at  times, 
And  is  too  deep  just  now  in  the  old  book ! 
But  do  not  blame  her  greatly ;  she  will  grow 
As  quiet  as  a  puff-ball  in  a  tree 
When  but  the  moons  of  marriage  dawn  and  die 
For  half  a  score  of  times. 

FATHER  HART. 

Their  hearts  are  wild 
As  be  the  hearts  of  birds,  till  children  come. 

6 


BRIDGET  BRUIN. 

She  would  not  mind  the  griddle,  milk  the  cow, 
Or  even  lay  the  knives  and  spread  the  cloth. 

FATHER  HART. 

I  never  saw  her  read  a  book  before ; 
What  may  it  be? 

MAURTEEN  BRUIN. 

I  do  not  rightly  know; 
It  has  been  in  the  thatch  for  fifty  years. 
My  father  told  me  my  grandfather  wrote  it, 
Killed  a  red  heifer  and  bound  it  with  the  hide. 
But  draw  your  chair  this  way — supper  is  spread ; 
And  little  good  he  got  out  of  the  book, 
Because  it  filled  his  house  with  roaming  bards, 
And  roaming  ballad-makers  and  the  like, 
And  wasted  all  his  goods.  —  Here  is  the  wine  : 
The  griddle  bread's  beside  you,  Father  Hart. 
Colleen,  what  have  you  got  there  in  the  book 
That  you  must  leave  the  bread  to  cool  ?    Had  I, 
Or  had  my  father,  read  or  written  books 
There  were  no  stocking  full  of  silver  and  gold 
To  come,  when  I  am  dead,  to  Shawn  and  you. 

FATHER  HART. 

You  should  not  fill  your  head  with  foolish  dreams. 
What  are  you  reading? 


MAIRE  BRUIN. 

How  a  Princess  Adene, 
A  daughter  of  a  King  of  Ireland,  heard 
A  voice  singing  on  a  May  Eve  like  this, 
And  followed,  half  awake  and  half  asleep, 
Until  she  came  into  the  land  of  faery, 
Where  nobody  gets  old  and  godly  and  grave, 
Where  nobody  gets  old  and  crafty  and  wise, 
Where  nobody  gets  old  and  bitter  of  tongue ; 
And  she  is  still  there,  busied  with  a  dance, 
Deep  in  the  dewy  shadow  of  a  wood, 
Or  where  stars  walk  upon  a  mountain-top. 

MAURTEEN  BRUIN. 
Persuade  the  colleen  to  put  by  the  book : 
My  grandfather  would  mutter  just  such  things, 
And  he  was  no  judge  of  a  dog  or  horse, 
And  any  idle  boy  could  blarney  him  : 
Just  speak  your  mind. 

FATHER  HART. 

Put  it  away,  my  colleen. 
God  spreads  the  heavens  above  us  like  great  wings, 
And  gives  a  little  round  of  deeds  and  days, 
And  then  come  the  wrecked  angels  and  set  snares, 
And  bait  them  with  light  hopes  and  heavy  dreams, 
Until  the  heart  is  puffed  with  pride  and  goes, 
Half  shuddering  and  half  joyous,  from  God's 
peace : 

8 


And  it  was  some  wrecked  angel,  blind  from  tears, 
Who  flattered  Adene's  heart  with  merry  words. 
My  colleen,  I  have  seen  some  other  girls 
Restless  and  ill  at  ease,  but  years  went  by 
And  they  grew  like  their  neighbours  and  were 

glad 
In  minding  children,  working  at  the  churn, 
And  gossiping  of  weddings  and  of  wakes; 
For  life  moves  out  of  a  red  flare  of  dreams 
Into  a  common  light  of  common  hours, 
Until  old  age  bring  the  red  flare  again. 

SHAWN  BRUIN. 

Yet  do  not  blame  her  greatly,  Father  Hart, 
For  she  is  dull  while  I  am  in  the  fields, 
And  mother's  tongue  were  harder  still  to  bear, 
But  for  her  fancies :  this  is  May  Eve  too, 
When  the  good  people  post  about  the  world, 
And  surely  one  may  think  of  them  to-night. 
Maire,  have  you  the  primroses  to  fling 
Before  the  door  to  make  a  golden  path 
For  them  to  bring  good  luck  into  the  house? 
Remember,  they  may  steal  new-married  brides 
After  the  fall  of  twilight  on  May  Eve. 

[MAIRE  BRUIN  goes  over  to  the  window  and 
takes  flowers  from  the  bowl  and  strews 
them  outside  the  door.] 


FATHER  HART. 

You  do  well,  daughter,  because  God  permits 
Great  power  to  the  good  people  on  May  Eve. 

SHAWN  BRUIN. 

They  can  work  all  their  will  with  primroses ; 
Change  them  to  golden  money,  or  little  flames 
To  burn  up  those  who  do  them  any  wrong. 

MAIRE  BRUIN  [in  a  dreamy  voice], 
I  had  no  sooner  flung  them  by  the  door 
Than  the  wind  cried  and  hurried  them  away ; 
And  then  a  child  came  running  in  the  wind 
And  caught  them  in  her  hands  and  fondled  them : 
Her  dress  was  green  :  her  hair  was  of  red  gold ; 
Her  face  was  pale  as  water  before  dawn. 

FATHER  HART. 

Whose  child  can  this  be  ? 

MAURTEEN  BRUIN. 

No  one's  child  at  all. 
She  often  dreams  that  some  one  has  gone  by 
When  there  was  nothing  but  a  puff  of  wind. 

1VJAIRE  BRUIN. 

They  will  not  bring  good  luck  into  the  house, 
For  they  have  blown  the  primroses  away ; 
Yet  I  am  glad  that  I  was  courteous  to  them, 
For  are  not  they,  likewise,  children  of  God  ? 

10 


FATHER  HART. 

Colleen,  they  are  the  children  of  the  fiend, 
And  they  have  power  until  the  end  of  Time, 
When  God  shall  fight  with  them  a  great  pitched 

battle 
And  hack  them  into  pieces. 

MAIRE  BRUIN. 

He  will  smile, 
Father,  perhaps,  and  open  His  great  door, 
And  call  the  pretty  and  kind  into  His  house. 

FATHER  HART. 

Did  but  the  lawless  angels  see  that  door, 
They  would  fall,  slain  by  everlasting  peace ; 
And  when  such  angels  knock  upon  our  doors 
Who  goes  with  them  must  drive  through  the 
same  storm. 
[A  knock  at  the  door.     MAIRE  BRUIN  opens 
it  and  then  goes  to  the  dresser  and  fills  a 
porringer  with  milk  and  hands  it  through 
the  door  and  takes  it  back  empty  and  closes 
the  door,~\ 

MAIRE  BRUIN. 

A  little  queer  old  woman  cloaked  in  green, 
Who  came  to  beg  a  porringer  of  milk. 

11 


BRIDGET  BRUIN. 

The  good  people  go  asking  milk  and  fire 
Upon  May  Eve — Woe  on  the  house  that  gives, 
For  they  have  power  upon  it  for  a  year. 
I  knew  you  would  bring  evil  on  the  house. 

MAURTEEN  BRUIN. 

Who  was  she  ? 

MAIRE  BRUIN. 
Both  the  tongue  and  face  were  strange. 
MAURTEEN  BRUIN. 
Some  strangers  came  last  week  to  Clover  Hill ; 
She  must  be  one  of  them. 

BRIDGET  BRUIN. 

I  am  afraid. 
MAURTEEN  BRUIN. 
The  priest  will  keep  all  harm  out  of  the  house. 

FATHER  HART. 
The  cross  will  keep  all  harm  out  of  the  house 
While  it  hangs  there. 

MAURTEEN  BRUIN. 

Come,  sit  beside  me,  colleen, 
And  put  away  your  dreams  of  discontent, 
For  I  would  have  you  light  up  my  last  days 
Like  a  bright  torch  of  pine,  and  when  I  die 

12 


I  will  make  you  the  wealthiest  hereabout : 
For  hid  away  where  nobody  can  find 
I  have  a  stocking  full  of  silver  and  gold. 

BRIDGET  BRUIN. 

You  are  the  fool  of  every  pretty  face, 

And  I  must  pinch  and  pare  that  my  son's  wife 

May  have  all  kinds  of  ribbons  for  her  head. 

MAURTEEN  BRUIN. 

Do  not  be  cross ;  she  is  a  right  good  girl  ! 
The  butter  is  by  your  elbow,  Father  Hart. 
My  colleen,  have  not  Fate  and  Time  and  Change 
Done  well  for  me  and  for  old  Bridget  there  ? 
We  have  a  hundred  acres  of  good  land, 
And  sit  beside  each  other  at  the  fire, 
The  wise  priest  of  our  parish  to  our  right, 
And  you  and  our  dear  son  to  left  of  us. 
To  sit  beside  the  board  and  drink  good  wine 
And  watch  the  turf  smoke  coiling  from  the  fire 
And  feel  content  and  wisdom  in  your  heart, 
This  is  the  best  of  life ;  when  we  are  young 
We  long  to  tread  a  way  none  trod  before, 
But  find  the  excellent  old  way  through  love 
And  through  the  care  of  children  to  the  hour 
For  bidding  Fate  and  Time  and  Change  goodbye. 

[A  knock  at  the  door.      M  AIRE  BRUIN  opens 
it  and  then  takes  a  sod  of  turf  out  of  the 

13 


hearth  in  the  tongs  and  passes  it  through 
the  door  and  closes  the  door  and  remains 
standing  by  it.~\ 

MAIRE  BRUIN. 
A  little  queer  old  man  in  a  green  coat, 
Who  asked  a  burning  sod  to  light  his  pipe. 

BRIDGET  BRUIN. 

You  have  now  given  milk  and  fire,  and  brought, 
For  all  you  know,  evil  upon  the  house. 
Before  you  married  you  were  idle  and  fine, 
And  went  about  with  ribbons  on  your  head ; 
And  now  you  are  a  good-for-nothing  wife. 

SHAWN  BRUIN. 
Be  quiet,  mother ! 

MAURTEEN  BRUIN. 

You  are  much  too  cross ! 
MAIRE  BRUIN. 
What  do  I  care  if  I  have  given  this  house, 
Where  I  must  hear  all  day  a  bitter  tongue, 
Into  the  power  of  faeries ! 

BRIDGET  BRUIN. 

You  know  well 
How  calling  the  good  people  by  that  name 
Or  talking  of  them  over  much  at  all 
May  bring  all  kinds  of  evil  on  the  house. 

14 


MAIRE  BRUIN. 

Come,  faeries,  take  me  out  of  this  dull  house  ! 
Let  me  have  all  the  freedom  I  have  lost ; 
Work  when  I  will  and  idle  when  I  will ! 
Faeries,  come  take  me  out  of  this  dull  world, 
For  I  would  ride  with  you  upon  the  wind, 
Run  on  the  top  of  the  dishevelled  tide, 
And  dance  upon  the  mountains  like  a  flame ! 

FATHER  HART. 

You  cannot  know  the  meaning  of  your  words. 
MAIRE  BRUIN. 

Father,  I  am  right  weary  of  four  tongues : 
A  tongue  that  is  too  crafty  and  too  wise, 
A  tongue  that  is  too  godly  and  too  grave, 
A  tongue  that  is  more  bitter  than  the  tide, 
And  a  kind  tongue  too  full  of  drowsy  love, 
Of  drowsy  love  and  my  captivity. 

[SHAWN  BRUIN  comes  over  to  her  and  leads 
her  to  the  settled 

SHAWN  BRUIN. 

Do  not  blame  me  :  I  often  lie  awake 
Thinking  that  all   things  trouble  your  bright 

head  — 
How  beautiful  it  is  —  such  broad  pale  brows 
Under  a  cloudy  blossoming  of  hair ! 

15 


Sit  down  beside  me  here  —  these  are  too  old, 
And  have  forgotten  they  were  ever  young. 

MAIRE  BRUIN. 
O,  you  are  the  great  door-post  of  this  house, 
And  I,  the  red  nasturtium,  climbing  up. 

[She  takes  SHAWN'S  hand,  but  looks  shyly  at 
the  priest  and  lets  it  go,  ] 

FATHER  HART. 
Good  daughter,  take  his  hand — by  love  alone 
God  binds  us  to  Himself  and  to  the  hearth 
And  shuts  us  from  the  waste  beyond  His  peace, 
From  maddening  freedom  and  bewildering  light. 

SHAWN  BRUIN. 
Would  that  the  world  were  mine  to  give  it  you 
With  every  quiet  hearth  and  barren  waste, 
The  maddening  freedom  of  its  woods  and  tides, 
And  the  bewildering  light  upon  its  hills. 

MAIRE  BRUIN. 
Then  I  would  take  and  break  it  in  my  hands 
To  see  you  smile  watching  it  crumble  away. 

SHAWN  BRUIN. 
Then  I  would  mould  a  world  of  fire  and  dew 
With  no  one  bitter,  grave,  or  over  wise, 
And  nothing  marred  or  old  to  do  you  wrong. 
And  crowd  the  enraptured  quiet  of  the  sky 
With  candles  burning  to  your  lonely  face. 

16 


MAIRE  BRUIN. 

Your  looks  are  all  the  candles  that  I  need. 

SHAWN  BRUIN. 

Once  a  fly  dancing  in  a  beam  of  the  sun, 
Or  the  light  wind  blowing  out  of  the  dawn, 
Could  fill  your  heart  with  dreams  none  other 

knew, 
But  now  the  indissoluble  sacrament 
Has  mixed  your  heart  that  was  most  proud  and 

cold 
With  my  warm  heart  for  ever;  and  sun  and 

moon 
Must  fade  and  heaven  be  rolled  up  like  a  scroll ; 
But  your  white  spirit  still  walk  by  my  spirit. 

[A  VOICE  sings  in  the  distance.'] 

MAIRE  BRUIN. 

Did  you  hear  something  call?     O,  guard  me 

close, 
Because  I  have  said  wicked  things  to-night ; 
And  seen  a  pale-faced  child  with  red-gold  hair, 
And  longed  to  dance  upon  the  winds  with  her. 

A  VOICE  [close  to  the  door]. 
The  wind  blows  out  of  the  gates  of  the  day, 
The  wind  blows  over  the  lonely  of  heart 
And  the  lonely  of  heart  is  withered  away, 
While  the  faeries  dance  in  a  place  apart, 

17 


Shaking  their  milk-white  feet  in  a  ring, 

Tossing  their  milk-white  arms  in  the  air; 

For  they  hear  the  wind  laugh,  and  murmur  and 

sing 
Of  a  land  where  even  the  old  are  fair, 
And  even  the  wise  are  merry  of  tongue ; 
But  I  heard  a  reed  of  Coolaney  say, 
"When  the  wind  has  laughed  and  murmured 

and  sung, 
The  lonely  of  heart  is  withered  away!" 

MAURTEEN  BRUIN. 
I  am  right  happy,  and  would  make  all  else 
Be  happy  too.     I  hear  a  child  outside, 
And  will  go  bring  her  in  out  of  the  cold. 

[He  opens  the  door.  A  CHILD  dressed  in 
pale  green  and  with  red-gold  hair  comes 
into  the  house.] 

THE  CHILD. 
I  tire  of  winds  and  waters  and  pale  lights  ! 

MAURTEEN  BRUIN. 
You  are  most  welcome.     It  is  cold  out  there ; 
Who  would  think  to  face  such  cold  on  a  May 
Eve? 

THE  CHILD. 
And  when  I  tire  of  this  warm  little  house 
There  is  one  here  who  must  away,  away, 

18 


To  where  the  woods,  the  stars,  and  the  white 

streams 
Are  holding  a  continual  festival. 

MAURTEEN  BRUIN. 

0  listen  to  her  dreamy  and  strange  talk. 
Come  to  the  fire. 

THE  CHILD. 

I  will  sit  upon  your  knee, 
For  I  have  run  from  where  the  winds  are  born, 
And  long  to  rest  my  feet  a  little  while. 

[She  sits  upon  his  knee.] 

BRIDGET  BRUIN. 

How  pretty  you  are  ! 

MAURTEEN  BRUIN. 

Your  hair  is  wet  with  dew  ! 

BRIDGET  BRUIN. 

1  will  warm  your  chilly  feet. 

[She  takes  the  child's  feet  in  her  hands.] 

MAURTEEN  BRUIN. 

You  must  have  come 
A  long,  long  way,  for  I  have  never  seen 
Your  pretty  face,  and  must  be  tired  and  hungry  ; 
Here  is  some  bread  and  wine. 

19 


THE  CHILD. 

The  wine  is  bitter. 
Old  mother,  have  you  no  sweet  food  for  me  ? 

BRIDGET  BRUIN. 

I  have  some  honey  ! 

[She  goes  into  the  next  room,] 

MAURTEEN  BRUIN. 

You  are  a  dear  child  ; 
The  mother  was  quite  cross  before  you  came. 
[BRIDGET  returns  with  the  honey,  and  goes  to 
the  dresser  and  fills  a  porringer  with  milk.'] 

BRIDGET  BRUIN. 

She  is  the  child  of  gentle  people ;  look 
At  her  white  hands  and  at  her  pretty  dress. 
I  have  brought  you  some  new  milk,  but  wait 

awhile, 
And  I  will  put  it  by  the  fire  to  warm, 
For  things  well  fitted  for  poor  folk  like  us 
Would  never  please  a  high-born  child  like  you. 

THE  CHILD. 

Old  mother,  my  old  mother,  the  green  dawn 
Brightens  above  while  you  blow  up  the  fire; 
And  evening  finds  you  spreading  the  white  cloth. 
The  young  may  lie  in  bed  and  dream  and  hope, 
But  you  work  on  because  your  heart  is  old. 

20 


BRIDGET  BRUIN. 

The  young  are  idle. 

THE  CHILD. 

Old  father,  you  are  wise 
And  all  the  years  have  gathered  in  your  heart 
To  whisper  of  the  wonders  that  are  gone. 
The  young  must  sigh  through  many  a  dream 

and  hope, 
But  you  are  wise  because  your  heart  is  old. 

MAURTEEN  BRUIN. 
O,  who  would  think  to  find  so  young  a  child 
Loving  old  age  and  wisdom  ? 

[BRIDGET  gives  her  more  bread  and  honey.] 
THE  CHILD. 

No  more,  mother. 
MAURTEEN  BRUIN. 
What  a  small  bite  !     The  milk  is  ready  now ; 
What  a  small  sip  ! 

THE  CHILD. 

Put  on  my  shoes,  old  mother, 
For  I  would  like  to  dance  now  I  have  eaten. 
The  reeds  are  dancing  by  Coolaney  lake, 
And  I  would  like  to  dance  until  the  reeds 
And  the  white  waves  have  danced  themselves 
to  sleep. 

21 


[BRIDGET  having  put  on  her  shoes,  she  gets 
off  the  old  man's  knees  and  is  about  to 
dance,  but  suddenly  sees  the  crucifix  and 
shrieks  and  covers  her  eyes.] 

What  is  that  ugly  thing  on  the  black  cross  ? 

FATHER  HART. 

You  cannot  know  how  naughty  your  words  are  ! 
That  is  our  Blessed  Lord  ! 

THE  CHILD. 

Hide  it  away  ! 
BRIDGET  BRUIN. 
I  have  begun  to  be  afraid,  again  ! 

THE  CHILD. 

Hide  it  away ! 

MAURTEEN  BRUIN. 

That  would  be  wickedness  ! 

BRIDGET  BRUIN. 

That  would  be  sacrilege  ! 

THE  CHILD. 

The  tortured  thing ! 
Hide  it  away ! 

MAURTEEN  BRUIN. 
Her  parents  are  to  blame. 

22 


FATHER  HART. 

That  is  the  image  of  the  Son  of  God. 

[THE  CHILD  puts  her  arm  round  his  neck 
and  kisses  him.] 

THE  CHILD. 
Hide  it  away  !     Hide  it  away  ! 

MAURTEEN  BRUIN. 

No  !  no ! 
FATHER  HART. 

Because  you  are  so  young  and  little  a  child 
I  will  go  take  it  down. 

THE  CHILD. 

Hide  it  away, 
And  cover  it  out  of  sight  and  out  of  mind. 
[FATHER  HART  takes  it  down  and  carries 
it  towards  the  inner  room.] 

FATHER  HART. 

Since  you  have  come  into  this  barony 
I  will  instruct  you  in  our  blessed  faith : 
Being  a  clever  child  you  will  soon  learn. 

[To  the  others.] 
We  must  be  tender  with  all  budding  things. 
Our  Maker  let  no  thought  of  Calvary 
Trouble  the  morning  stars  in  their  first  song. 

[Puts  the  crucifix  in  the  inner  room.] 

23 


THE  CHILD. 

Here  is  level  ground  for  dancing.    I  will  dance. 
The  wind  is  blowing  on  the  waving  reeds, 
The  wind  is  blowing  on  the  heart  of  man. 

[She  dances,  swaying  about  like  the  reeds.] 

MAIRE  [to  Shawn  Bruin! 

Just  now  when  she  came  near  I  thought  I  heard 
Other  small  steps  beating  upon  the  floor, 
And  a  faint  music  blowing  in  the  wind, 
Invisible  pipes  giving  her  feet  the  time. 

SHAWN  BRUIN. 

I  heard  no  step  but  hers. 

MAIRE  BRUIN. 

Look  to  the  bolt ! 
Because  the  unholy  powers  are  abroad. 

MAURTEEN  BRUIN  [ft  The  Child! 

Come  over  here,  and  if  you  promise  me 
Not  to  talk  wickedly  of  holy  things 
I  will  give  you  something. 

THE  CHILD. 

Bring  it  me,  old  father ! 
[MAURTEEN    BRUIN    goes    into    the    next 
room.] 

24 


FATHER  HART. 

I  will  have  queen  cakes  when  you  come  to  me  ! 
[MAURTEEN   BRUIN    returns  and  lays  a 
piece  of  money  on  the  table,     THE  CHILD 
makes  a  gesture  of  refusal.] 

MAURTEEN  BRUIN. 

It  will  buy  lots  of  toys;  see  how  it  glitters ! 

THE  CHILD. 
Come,  tell  me,  do  you  love  me? 

MAURTEEN  BRUIN. 

I  love  you  ! 
THE  CHILD. 
Ah  !  but  you  love  this  fireside  ! 
FATHER  HART. 

I  love  you. 
THE  CHILD. 
But  you  love  Him  above. 

BRIDGET  BRUIN. 

She  is  blaspheming. 
THE  CHILD  [to  MAIRE]. 
And  do  you  love  me  ? 

MAIRE  BRUIN. 

I  —  I  do  not  know. 

25 


THE  CHILD. 

You  love  that  great  tall  fellow  over  there : 
Yet  I  could  make  you  ride  upon  the  winds, 
Run  on  the  top  of  the  dishevelled  tide, 
And  dance  upon  the  mountains  like  a  flame ! 

MAIRE  BRUIN. 

Queen  of  the  Angels  and  kind  Saints,  defend  us ! 
Some  dreadful  fate  has  fallen :  a  while  ago 
The  wind  cried  out  and  took  the  primroses, 
And  she  ran  by  me  laughing  in  the  wind, 
And  I  gave  milk  and  fire,  and  she  came  in 
And  made  you  hide  the  blessed  crucifix. 

FATHER  HART. 

You  fear  because  of  her  wild,  pretty  prattle ; 
She  knows  no  better. 

[To  The  Child.] 

Child,  how  old  are  you  ? 

THE  CHILD. 

When  winter  sleep  is  abroad  my  hair  grows  thin, 
My  feet  unsteady.     When  the  leaves  awaken 
My  mother  carries  me  in  her  golden  arms. 
I  will  soon  put  on  my  womanhood  and  marry 
The  spirits  of  wood  and  water,  but  who  can  tell 
When  I  was  born  for  the  first  time  ?     I  think 
I  am  much  older  than  the  eagle  cock 

26 


That  blinks  and  blinks  on  Ballygawley  Hill, 
And  he  is  the  oldest  thing  under  the  moon. 

FATHER  HART. 

She  is  of  the  faery  people. 

THE  CHILD. 

I  am  Brig's  daughter. 
I  sent  my  messengers  for  milk  and  fire, 
And  then  I  heard  one  call  to  me  and  came. 

[They  all  except  MAIRE  BRUIN  gather  about 
the  priest  for  protection.  MAIRE  BRUIN 
stays  on  the  settle  in  a  stupor  of  terror.  THE 
CHILD  takes  primroses  from  the  great  bowl 
and  begins  to  strew  them  between  herself 
and  the  priest  and  about  M  AIRE  BRUIN. 
During  the  following  dialogue  SHAWN 
BRUIN  goes  more  than  once  to  the  brink  of 
the  primroses,  but  shrinks  back  to  the  others 
timidly.] 

FATHER  HART. 

I  will  confront  this  mighty  spirit  alone. 

[They  cling  to  him  and  hold  him  back.] 

THE  CHILD  [while  she  strews  the  primroses]. 

No  one  whose  heart  is  heavy  with  human  tears 
Can  cross  these  little  cressets  of  the  wood. 

27 


FATHER  HART. 

Be  not  afraid,  the  Father  is  with  us, 
And  all  the  nine  angelic  hierarchies, 
The  Holy  Martyrs  and  the  Innocents, 
The  adoring  Magi  in  their  coats  of  mail, 
And  He  who  died  and  rose  on  the  third  day, 
And  Mary  with  her  seven  times  wounded  heart. 
[THE  CHILD  ceases  strewing  the  primroses, 
and  kneels  upon  the  settle  beside  MAIRE 
and  puts  her  arms  about  her  necL] 
Cry,  daughter,  to  the  Angels  and  the  Saints. 

THE  CHILD. 

You  shall  go  with  me,  newly-married  bride, 
And  gaze  upon  a  merrier  multitude ; 
White-armed  Nuala  and  Aengus  of  the  birds, 
And  Feacra  of  the  hurtling  foam,  and  him 
Who  is  the  ruler  of  the  western  host, 
Finvarra,  and  their  Land  of  Heart's  Desire, 
Where  beauty  has  no  ebb,  decay  no  flood, 
But  joy  is  wisdom,  Time  an  endless  song. 
I  kiss  you  and  the  world  begins  to  fade. 

FATHER  HART. 
Daughter,  I  call  you  unto  home  and  love ! 

THE  CHILD. 

Stay,  and  come  with  me,  newly-married  bride, 
For,  if  you  hear  him,  you  grow  like  the  rest : 

28 


Bear  children,  cook,  be  mindful  of  the  churn, 
And  wrangle  over  butter,  fowl,  and  eggs, 
And  sit  at  last  there,  old  and  bitter  tongue, 
Watching  the  white  stars  war  upon  your  hopes. 

FATHER  HART. 
Daughter,  I  point  you  out  the  way  to  heaven. 

THE  CHILD. 
But  I  can  lead  you,  newly-married  bride, 
Where  nobody  gets  old  and  crafty  and  wise, 
Where  nobody  gets  old  and  godly  and  grave, 
Where  nobody  gets  old  and  bitter  of  tongue, 
And  where  kind  tongues  bring  no  captivity, 
For  we  are  only  true  to  the  far  lights 
We  follow  singing,  over  valley  and  hill. 

FATHER  HART. 

By  the  dear  name  of  the  one  crucified, 
I  bid  you,  Maire  Bruin,  come  to  me. 

THE  CHILD. 
I  keep  you  in  the  name  of  your  own  heart ! 
[She  leaves  the  settle,  and  stooping  takes  up  a 
mass  of  primroses  and  kisses  them.] 
We  have  great  power  to-night,  dear  golden  folk, 
For  he  took  down  and  hid  the  crucifix. 
And  my  invisible  brethren  fill  the  house ; 
I  hear  their  footsteps  going  up  and  down. 
O,  they  shall  soon  rule  all  the  hearts  of  men 

29 


And  own  all  lands ;  last  night  they  merrily  danced 
About  his  chapel  belfry  !     (To  MAIRE)  Come 

away, 
I  hear  my  brethren  bidding  us  away ! 

FATHER  HART. 

I  will  go  fetch  the  crucifix  again. 

[They  hang  about  him  in  terror  and  prevent 
him  from  moving .] 

BRIDGET  BRUIN. 

The  enchanted  flowers  will  kill  us  if  you  go. 

MAURTEEN  BRUIN. 
They  turn  the  flowers  to  little  twisted  flames. 

SHAWN  BRUIN. 
The  little  twisted  flames  burn  up  the  heart. 

THE  CHILD. 
I  hear  them  crying,  u  Newly-married  bride, 
Come  to  the  woods  and  waters  and  pale  lights." 

MAIRE  BRUIN. 
I  will  go  with  you. 

FATHER  HART. 

She  is  lost,  alas  ! 
THE  CHILD  [standing  by  the  door]. 
But  clinging  mortal  hope  must  fall  from  you 
For  we  who  ride  the  winds,  run  on  the  waves 

30 


And  dance  upon  the  mountains,  are  more  light 
Than  dewdrops  on  the  banners  of  the  dawn. 
MAIRE  BRUIN. 

0  take  me  with  you. 

[Shawn  Bruin  goes  over  to  her.'] 
SHAWN  BRUIN. 

Beloved,  do  not  leave  me ! 
Remember  when  I  met  you  by  the  well 
And  took  your  hand  in  mine  and  spoke  of  love. 

MAIRE  BRUIN. 
Dear  face  !     Dear  voice  ! 

THE  CHILD. 

Come,  newly-married  bride ! 
MAIRE  BRUIN. 

1  always  loved  her  world  —  and  yet  —  and  yet — 

[Sinks  into  his  arms.] 

THE  CHILD  {.from  the  door]. 
White  bird,  white  bird,  come  with  me,  little  bird. 

MAIRE  BRUIN 
She  calls  to  me ! 

THE  CHILD. 

Come  with  me,  little  bird  ! 

MAIRE  BRUIN. 
I  can  hear  songs  and  dancing ! 

31 


SHAWN  BRUIN. 

Stay  with  me ! 
MAIRE  BRUIN. 
I  think  that  I  would  stay — and  yet  —  and  yet — 

THE  CHILD. 
Come,  little  bird  with  crest  of  gold  ! 

MAIRE  BRUIN  [very  softly']. 

And  yet  — 
THE  CHILD. 

Come,  little  bird  with  silver  feet ! 

[MAIRE  dies,  and  the  child  goes.] 

SHAWN  BRUIN. 

She  is  dead  ! 
BRIDGET  BRUIN. 

Come  from  that  image  :  body  and  soul  are  gone. 
You  have  thrown  your  arms  about  a  drift  of 

leaves 
Or  bole  of  an  ash-tree  changed  into  her  image. 

FATHER  HART. 

Thus  do  the  spirits  of  evil  snatch  their  prey 
Almost  out  of  the  very  hand  of  God ; 
And  day  by  day  their  power  is  more  and  more, 
And  men  and  women  leave  old  paths,  for  pride 
Comes  knocking  with  thin  knuckles  on  the  heart. 

32 


A  VOICE    [.singing  outside]. 

The  wind  blows  out  of  the  gates  of  the  day. 
The  wind  blows  over  the  lonely  of  heart. 
And  the  lonely  of  heart  is  withered  away 
While  the  faeries  dance  in  a  place  apart. 
Shaking  their  milk-white  feet  in  a  ring. 
Tossing  their  milk-white  arms  in  the  air ; 
For  they  hear  the  wind  laugh  and  murmur  and 

sing 
Of  a  land  where  even  the  old  are  fair, 
And  even  the  wise  are  merry  of  tongue ; 
But  I  heard  a  reed  of  Coolaney  say, 
"When  the  wind  has  laughed  and  murmured 

and  sung, 
The  lonely  of  heart  is  withered  away." 

[The  song  is  taken  up  by  many  voices,  who 
sing  loudly,  as  if  in  triumph.  Some  of  the 
voices  seem  to  come  from  within  the  house.] 


NINE  HUNDRED  AND   FIFTY  COPIES  OF 

THIS  BOOK   PRINTED  ON    VAN  GELDER 

HAND-MADE     PAPER     AND    THE    TYPE 

DISTRIBUTED. 


